


Kiss Number Six: Uddrandha

by a_xmasmurder



Series: The Eight Types of Kissing [6]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bond isn't being subtle, Developing Relationship, Frustration, Hacking, Is he ever?, Kissing, Life and Such at MI6, M/M, Mission Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:12:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6. Uddrandha – This is done when one of the partners comes from behind the other. Taking the chin and head, turn his/her head and kiss his/her lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Number Six: Uddrandha

_**ACCESS DENIED** _

“Oh, bullshit.” Q swallowed the hot tea in his mouth and leaned forward until he was nose to nose with the flat computer monitor screen. “I call bullshit.” His hands danced along the keys, the tips of his fingers flitting lightly on the plastic. Lines of code scrolled on another monitor over to his left, and his eyes regularly flicked over to it to check the progress of a separate programme as it systematically peeled back the security firewalls and layers of protection surrounding Nathaniel Stone’s network.

_**ACCESS DENIED** _

“My arse.” He tried another string of letters and numbers, going by the prompt on the tablet lying off to his right.

_**ACCESS DENIED** _

If his calculations were correct, and they usually were, he’d have only one more shot at this before the system locked him out completely, and then he’d have to resort to brute force to crack the firewalls. Only one problem: the stupid amount of alarms he would set off. 009 would be caught out in the cold with no way home. _No, this has to be silent. No alarms, not. A. Peep._ Q breathed deeply, cracked his knuckles, and rolled his neck. The tablet bleeped - another possible passcode had been verified.

“Alright, let’s see if this one works.” He quickly typed it in.

_**ACCESS DENIED** _

“Buggering fuck.” Q chewed on his bottom lip, and watched the flashing red of the warning window, contemplating calling 009 off until he can crack a hole wide enough that he could slide through. The visions of the mass grave outside of Mudayrah, Kuwait caused by a chemical gas attack rolled through his mind, and his stomach gave a kick. He pressed the little button on his earpiece, activating it. “009? Are you there?”

A sleepy voice grunted. “Yeah.”

“Get ready to move fast. I couldn’t get in quietly. This is going to be an all-out assault.”

Rustling noises over the connection told Q the agent was moving. “I’m up. Let’s do this. I’m getting bored.”

Q’s hands were already poised over the keyboard, his lips parted in a dangerous grin. “So am I. Wait for the signal.” His fingers flew again, this time opening his personal network and piggybacking it onto the more powerful MI6 network. Windows popped up in all three screens, and the largest was simply a command prompt screen; innocuous in normal applications, but in the Quartermaster’s hands a weapon of mass destruction. His whole undivided attention was now on that window as the other programmes ran in the background.

“What signal - oh. The alarms.”

Q could hear them over the comm link - _Klaxons, really?_ \- and worked on shutting those down as his programmes picked and hacked away at the firewalls. “Yes, those. _Move_ , agent. You don’t have much time to get into that control room. Stone’s got to have the files there.”

“Got it.” A couple gun reports, and then the agent was on the move. “Keep me updated.”

“Will do - fuck, they have a live one!” Q groaned as a little flashing symbol on the right hand monitor started to blink bright green, a signal for an active counter attack. “A live hacker, oooh, this is decidedly not boring at all.” Q’s grin widened into a snarl, and he multitasked, taking on the specialist on the other end as he worked on the firewall and tracked 009’s progress through the enemy compound. “Good luck, agent.”

“You too.”

  
  


It took twenty minutes of feverish work, but he was into the network, the system was down, and millions of dollars in U.S. currency flushed into MI6’s coffers as Q disabled the last lock on the vault door. “There. That should give us what we need.” He stood up and twisted, popping vertebrae back into place.

“Yeah.” Q could hear the heavy door swinging open, and 009’s curse. “Bloody hell, they are all here and accounted for.”

“Oh, goodie.”

“And...” The agent sighed. “They are all rigged to explode.”

Q groaned. “Why can’t we have nice things, agent? What sort of trigger system?” He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, and he rolled it to let Bond know that he was busy. The hand settled on his chin instead and pulled his head around to kiss him lightly on the lips, then let him go just as 009 responded.

“I haven’t the slightest...oh, wait. It’s a...nope, I have no clue. Sorry.”

Q blinked, shocked that Bond just kissed him in Q Branch. In front of everyone. “Um.”

“Q?”

Q shook his head. “Oh, yes! Uh, show it to me.” As the real-time images on the right hand screen changed to a view of the chemical weapons and the detonators, Bond rubbed his hand over the back of Q’s neck. Q felt like he was going to start purring at any moment. A happy little bubble of contentment formed in his stomach, and he leaned back into the touch as he got to work once more.


End file.
